Beyond Brain Injury
Where should I start? The first time I experienced a seizure? The first time I was diagnosed with psychogenic seizures by that awful neurologist? What about beginning with my sojourn in the epilepsy monitoring unit, several years into my recovery?
There’s so much to this story, so many twists and turns. Whenever I think about the topic, my emotions dart all over the place—frustration, anger, and resentment, grief and sadness, and finally relief that for the most part, I’ve come to terms with the whole story.
Standing in line behind her in Starbucks, I observed her as she leaned nonchalantly against the counter. I knew that stance—that was me, more than a decade ago, the slight swaying in the nonexistent breeze, the carefully annunciated speech, and the slow response to the barista’s terse questions. There was no doubt—this tall, skinny, unkempt woman was a brain injury survivor, in her early days of recovery.
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We had to take a COVID test within 72 hours of travel, i.e. on Friday morning. Uh oh—the results were only guaranteed to arrive within one to two business days. I.e. there was a distinct possibility that they wouldn’t arrive before our flight.
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Then came the day when we were both fully vaccinated—we could resume our walks. Speaking on the phone, finalizing our plans for a walk in the nearby nature reserve, it sudden
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She lived happily ever after.
Or so she thought
Brain bleeds and subsequent surgeries ended the life she knew and her dreams of the future.
In the wake of the surgeries, she struggled to reclaim her place in the world, to regain the life she lost.
I’m sure that some point soon, I will feel comfortable grocery shopping. I try to tell myself that I will be able to visit my parents in the foreseeable future. I hope that the hatred will wane, that it isn’t symptomatic of the beginning of the breakdown of society.
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